Teddy Bears and Terminated Blogs...

Uncle Sam took so much of my big, big paycheck. That made me sad. Still better than any paycheck I've seen in my life, but still...

[ed note: Stop being so greedy]

I'm in a bit of a mood. I did some spring [ed note: Summer. It's almost July. It's summer now. Yeah, but we barely had a spring, so I'm sticking with that. Then you're a fool. Have I ever claimed otherwise?] cleaning and cleared out unwanted names from phones, blogs, emails and the like. Summer of change means that you actually have to change things [ed note: Oh, NOW it's summer. Shut up]. It's muggy here [Hello, Summer! Jesus, will you ever let me finish a sentence?!] and I keep leaving things behind (I left my book at the bank walked all the way back to work when I realized it, and booked it [clever] back to pick it up and became a sweaty, stinky mess).

Is that really all it takes to put me in a bad mood? I'm like the Madonna of mood swings. Constantly re-invented.

The plan is to leave the city for the weekend. Again. I'm liking this bail-out thing. I see why everyone does it. I'm far less likely to get myself into trouble this way. You could call it running away from my problems, but I like to think of it as running to my solutions.

I didn't sleep very well last night. The emotional overhaul I'm pulling has left me restless and slightly despondent. Plus, my bedframe broke and so I sleep on an angle now. It's like being on the edge of the world. I pondered for a good time, not being able to fall asleep, when it's going to be time to stop sleeping with my teddy bear. I'm 23, for God's sake. And then I thought about all my options--I didn't want to donate or give him away, if I sent him back to Kingwood the animals would destroy him, and if he's still with me I'm always going to want him with me in my bed. I can't believe I've become so codependent on an inanimate object. I think he's the reason I never sleep well when I sleep with a guy. There's something lacking with men that Fluffy's got--maybe familiarity, maybe comfort [Maybe you're just a crazy bitch. Hey...] I think I'd stick completely with Fluffy if he could kiss me. I'd even give up sex [Who are YOU kidding? I could. I did it for 22 years, bitch.]

I don't know. My thoughts are filled with longing and hope and desperation. I had a conversation about desperation being an essential part of being an artist, but I long for a small amount of stability. I think the closest I'll ever get is something rent-stabilized.